


It Hungers

by Maesonry



Series: Entity Reader [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Mystery, POV Second Person, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maesonry/pseuds/Maesonry
Summary: The Entity is ten thousand things. It is the delight of a newborn child, it is the desolation of the diseased. It is the first warm rays of summer, the ice of a frozen lake breaking underfoot. It is a mother’s kiss, and a cruel fist’s strike.The Entity is many things.The Entity is you.And you are afraid.





	It Hungers

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little warmup. Decided to cast the reader as The Entity, then explain The Entity’s actions with vagueness. Turned out pretty okay

The Entity is ten thousand things. It is the squeals of a newborn child, it is the gasping breaths of the diseased. It is the first warm rays of summer, the ice of a frozen lake breaking underfoot. It is a mother’s kiss, and a cruel fist’s strike.

The Entity is many things.

The Entity is you.

 

 

You exist.

You cannot say it any other way. One day, there was nothing. Then, there was you. You, in an infinite darkness. 

You are hungry. 

You learn, as time goes on, that you are always hungry. It is not a pleasant feeling, but it comes in waves. You learn to ignore the hunger, but you are always hungry.

One day, something visits you. A crow, nothing more. It suffocates in the void, and as you approach it, you notice...

You are not hungry anymore.

It is a surprise, and you feel the first flickers of joy, the gnawing gone, replaced by something else. In your excitement, you learn to create. 

You make crows. To honor the first that died for you. The false crows fly around the void, but they do not die. They are you, your eyes, and though there is nothing to see, it is enough. 

The hunger comes back. 

The false crows do not sate it. This time, the hunger grows. You learn the feeling of hate. You hate the hunger, and your realm is now constantly filled with your hissing, the screech of angry crows, anything to block out the hunger. You cannot ignore it, not like before.

In your anger, you lash out. A hole is ripped in the shadows. A creature falls in. Large, bipedal. You barely spare them more than a cursory glance, just enough to discern if they're edible, and they are, which means they’ll do. A snap, and they are died. You absorb them quickly, and as before, the hunger disappears. 

 

 

 

You like to think that you were innocent once. Before, perhaps, when you were first born. In the darkness, with only hunger.

It hadn’t lasted long. But, maybe that is the point. Eternity cannot pick sides. You are the hope and the despair. You must exist, and so you do.

 

 

The creature.

The creature is human. Was a human. Not anymore. 

You do not remember them like the crows. But you do not forget them, either. The human. The creature. You memorize the grooves in its skin, the bumps and flecks, and you try to mold yourself in their image. 

The body is warped, though. Your form is close, but not enough. You have far too many arms, you think, with piercing claws and sharp ends. Your head is like a crow, and at first you are as black as the darkness around you, until you decide for something else. A flicker of color. Red, or maybe gold. Just enough for the void. And then, you are finished. 

It is not the crows. But it is something. 

 

 

The hunger comes back. It comes back stronger than before, restless, intrusive. It demands more, but you ignore it. You are not driven by your hunger, you drive it. You press down, trying to find answers. Why do you hunger, you demand to know. What do you hunger for.

Hope, you realize. You are hungry for hope.

Why hope?

...

It does not answer. If anyone were to ask, you would confess that that is what scares you most. 

 

 

You exist. 

For hundreds of thousands of millions of times, you exist.

It is a happy coincidence that the humans exist with you. You can watch them through the crows, and you do. You watch the humans grow, you watch them evolve, you watch caves become huts becomes homes become cities. Great metal beats scrape the skies, machines tunnel the ground.

You are hungry.

At first, when they were young, you too were young. Hunts for you were quick, grabbing one and leaching it of hope and life, at which they died. 

Your method was...inefficient. Lacking. Too much waste, too much death. You knew it, but could not figure out a better way. Your hunger constantly demanded more than the humans could give. In a way, you were scared. For them.

That is no longer a problem now.

Humans are killers. You blame yourself, in part, for that. That their ancestors would fight you, scream curses and throw spears, as you took them one by one. 

That kind of thing might be scarring to children. And children grow up. Humans today are killers, but that is fine. It is in the Killers that you find strength.

 

 

You devour hope. You must. It is your duty, for a reason you cannot understand, and you know that the hope you take must go somewhere. And it does. Somewhere you cannot reach, at least not yet. It is being collected, but you knew not why.

You kill for duty. 

The Killers kill for sport.

 

 

You cannot remember your first Killer. They, like many humans, age and die. But you know how it began. Some town, a dusty alleyway, a knife. Many knives. Many bodies. The Killer wasted lives, but... was efficient. They extracted hope at an alarming rate. 

You came up with a plan. 

You observed the Killer. Then, carefully, you remade their home. The area they killed in. It was not a perfect recreation, but it was enough. Enough for you to pick them up and set them down, in their new home.

You admit now that your selection of ‘Survivors’ was haphazard. You were excited. You grabbed whoever you could, and threw them in. Not too many, but enough. Let the Killer hunt them. Bring their hope out to you.

It wasn’t a terribly efficient system. Later on, you would iron out the kinks. Give the Survivors more incentive. More opportunity for hope. More places, more people, more. 

 

 

 

That was Then and this is Now.

You are still hungry, but not as much. And you are still afraid, but not as much.

You have more Killers. You have more Survivors. More Trials.

If you treat it like a game, you do not feel so bad. 

You tell some Killers that the Survivors were bad people. You tell the Survivors that some of the Killers are good people. 

Neither of these are false. 

Some of the Killers are ruthless. Some are kind. It is important to have a balance, just as some Survivors are the same.

Neither of them like you very much. 

You pretend you don’t mind. You wonder if the first human you killed would’ve liked you.

Sometimes, you are more afraid than others. Because you know that your capacity for hope is nowhere near full. And, something is coming. 

You are not prepared. 

You hope the Trials prepare the Survivors well, in the case that your hope reserves do not work. And you hope that the Killers you carefully chose will strike out at the Something that comes. 

You do not fear death. You are both life and death, so it is not wise to fear yourself.

But...

Sometimes an unknown is scarier than any one thing could be.

 

 

You are the Entity. 

You are ten thousand things. You cannot list them all, because time is short.

It is here.

You are afraid.


End file.
